wintergrass ふゆぐさ
by Bong Bong Bong
Summary: [Timeline] [Ongoing] 「 いくたびも / 雪の深さを / 尋ねけり 」　( again and again / i ask how high / the snow is ) 　Walpurgisnacht is defeated. The fight is over. Kyouko and Sayaka go on a journey to Fukui, the snow country covered in snow grass. But what for? Day after day, the snow falls faintly upon them all.
1. decretum: 1

**A/N:** This is more in line with what I wanted to write. Essentially a haiku novel. Slightly experimental with the grammar, completely doing away with usual tense in favour of grammatical aspect, indication of mood, perfective, and imperfective.

A medium-length fic, 50k words or so. Written in several installments. Three parts in total.

Natsugusa (summer grass) was named for the grass growing golden in summer. Fuyugusa (wintergrass) is named as it is because in winter, there is no grass.

A KyouSaya fic. Enjoy.

* * *

**ふゆぐさ**

**wintergrass.**

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**part 1: decretum**

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いくたびも  
雪の深さを  
尋ねけり**  
**

_again and again_  
_i ask how high_  
_the snow is_

* * *

Inside it is still dark.

Sayaka leans her head to the side, looking out the window. Or is she? Kyouko can't be too sure. Kyouko turns to look out as well. The window didn't see anything outside. Everything was dark. She couldn't even tell if they were moving.

But the lights from within reflected against the window, turning it into a looking glass. Seeing Sayaka's face superimpose with the figure of the young boy seated on the opposite side of the carriage, Kyouko thought they were all in endless purgatory, standing still in a moving scene.

The boy inside the window smiles, reading a book on stag beetles. The book is very colourful. Nearby him, his parents and sister talk amongst themselves. Kyouko thought if they were going to visit relatives. The boy looks excited.

Suddenly a blank face floats in.

It is Sayaka. Sayaka looks excited too, surely.

Her lips are looking a bit dry. Kyouko notices.

"Hora, Sayaka. You'll get thirsty."

She pulls out a bottle of mineral water from a plastic bag. After opening the cap, she nudges it to Sayaka's lips, just enough to form a small gap. Then, Kyouko slowly tips the bottle of water. Water flows. A trickle dribbles down Sayaka's lips, dribbles down the bottle onto Kyouko's hand. Kyouko pays it no mind.

When she's done, she wipes it all away with a handkerchief. She looks at Sayaka again, and she smiles. She is glad, and she is happy.

Again, Kyouko turns to look outside.

There is only darkness outside. This outside darkness was melting into the window, erasing parts of the looking glass at will. Sayaka's face turns into a detached eye, rocking back and forth, steadily. Occasionally, struck with light, it shines, as though alive.

Kyouko sighs.

Her eyes stray away from the Sayaka in the window, turning directly beside her. Kyouko looks at the window. The window looks back. She wondered since when the window had been looking at her. Putting her hand on the glass, she covers the window's eyes. Now the window can't see her anymore.

Kyouko turned her head to Sayaka again. She wondered if Sayaka was feeling lonely. But she didn't know what to say. And all she did was shut her lips tighter, leaning back into her seat. Kyouko was tired; it had been a long journey. Soon, they would be reaching their destination. It won't be long.

Listening to the faint rumble of the earth all around, Kyouko closed her eyes, body floating, as though buried in the atmosphere.

Then, the sound of the mountain roars into her ears.

Going through the long tunnel, past the country border, through the darkness ― and there it was.

The snow country.

Kyouko opens her eyes wide and gazed up.

The depths of the day turned white.

Light blows in.

"Look, Sayaka, we're here!" Kyouko says gently, almost pleading.

She turns to look at Sayaka.

But Sayaka can't see. She leans her head to the side, eyes pointed out the window. Sayaka's face grows pale as the driven snow. Her hollow eyes ring shrilly in the light. Inside it is still dark.

Kyouko's expression stiffens. The bitter cold melted from the outside into her heart.

Kyouko watches Sayaka for a while. She soon averts her eyes.

Then, she gazed out. But the window was nowhere to be seen anymore. It was swallowed up by a neverending field of snow.

Every now and then, Kyouko would be able to make something out in the distance. But in the blink of an eye, everything is gone. Everything melts away one by one, like the soft fabric of shallow dreams. The train shuttles on.

Kyouko's ears go temporarily deaf, as her head fills to the brim with the roar of mountains and snow.


	2. decretum: 2

At a small station the train came to a stop.

The doors rumble open, and the passengers take their time to alight. Kyouko looks in the window, watching their reflections float away. Some of them turn to glance at the pair. But when they do, their eyes and faces all disappear into the snow.

Kyouko blows a breath against the cold window. Mist condenses on the cold surface. The outside becomes vague again. She wipes a gloved finger along the glass and peers outside.

In the distance, a series of low buildings scatter themselves along the valleys and frozen slopes. They flicker like candles, reflecting sunlight, chimneys smoking grey. And far enough out, all their contours vanish into the light long before it can reach the eyes. Those spots where the clouds cover, the sun doesn't shine. The white of the snow falls away into the darkness some distance before it can reach them. Everything is woven into a fine tapestry of snow pictures in a cold country.

Then, Kyouko traces out one by one, さ・や・か on the misty window. She pauses for a second, before leaning back in to look. There is nothing but white light and shadow. The winter sun pours down on them all.

Rubbing her eyes, Kyouko stands up, stretching her back a bit. She lets out a great big yawn.

"K', Sayaka. Wake up," she says. "We're here."

Kyouko moves to grab the handles of Sayaka's wheelchair just opposite her, but not before fitting a woollen cap onto Sayaka's head. And with the words, "And we're off!", the two make their way out the carriage.

The moment they step outside, a strong gust of snow rushes past them, flinging Kyouko's ponytail all over to the side.

One of the stationmasters waits just outside the train. Meeting eyes, she walked slowly over the snow, a lantern in hand. Her face was buried to the nose in two thick mufflers, and the flaps of her cap were turned down covering her ears.

Icicles drew downwards from the branches of a plum tree, blooming white.

It's that cold, huh, Kyouko thought. Looking at the stationmaster, she couldn't help but wish she'd dressed in more than just a down overcoat.

"Will you be alright on your own?" the stationmaster asks in an overeager voice. She sounded quite young, maybe in her twenties or so. "If there is anything we can do to assist, we'd be more than happy to help."  
"Ah, nah ― I mean, no thank you. We're gonna be just fine, thanks."  
"If you two ever need any help, please don't hesitate to look to us. Do remember to keep warm in this cold weather. We wish you a pleasant journey ahead!"  
"Yeah, sure, thanks. Really appreciate it, really. You too actually. It's freezing out here."  
"Yes, it is."

The stationmaster bowed and smiled with her eyes.

Kyouko returned an obliging smile before making her way from the platform into the station proper. As she walked alone with herself, pushing Sayaka along, she thought of the stationmaster's smile and wondered what meaning could have been hidden behind it.

Once she was a safe distance away, Kyouko turned back to look. The stationmaster's figure seemed to be out in the flow of the morning mountains. Buffeted in the cold air, Kyouko couldn't help but think of her as a character from an old, romantic tale.

And, uncharacteristically, she felt embarrassed by her relative lack of manners just now. Maybe, she thought, the winter had simply made its way into her heart.

She thought of saying something. She thought of apologising for some reason, as if she owed it to the station master. She at least wanted to thank the stationmaster.

But then, in the corner of her eye, she sees. An old man, pink in the face, climbs over the railings. Whether by accident or on purpose, whether pushed by the alcohol or by the winter wind, Kyouko couldn't tell. She was too far away.

He tumbles down from the platform onto the tracks. Then he removes his suit and tie, shouting at the mountains.

Getting up on his feet, he lurches side to side. He starts to cry, or maybe laugh. His one wail of joy and agony pierces through the howling wind.

The stationmaster's black coat stands still, silently watching. Kyouko opens her mouth to say something, anything.

Then, a long freight train came out of the darkness to block them from sight.


End file.
